Author's Note: I had originally only intended to take this up to the reunion scene in "Broken" but then after "Lady of the Lake" aired, I figured post-nursery scene would be a better stopping point. I want to thank each and every one of you who has followed this story over the past couple of months. This is the longest fic I've ever written, and both the word and page counts are a little overwhelming. Even more overwhelming (and I mean that in the best way possible) are the review, favorite, and follow counts for this sucker. I know I've said it before but I'll say it again: you guys are fantastic. Thank you so much for all your lovely comments, reviews, and words of encouragement.

It wasn't until Emma stood in the middle of what would have – and, by all rights, should have – been her nursery and really drank in the details of the space that she understood. Parents who didn't want a child didn't set up the child's living space with such loving care. Parents who planned to send their child off to an unknown world didn't choose stuffed animals and toys and bassinets for that child.

The curse had stripped her parents of everything – of their love for each other, their happiness, and their dreams. The one thing her parents had managed to hold onto in the face of it all was their hope, because their hope had escaped minutes before the curse ravaged the land.

Their hope was their daughter.

Looking at this room now, there was no doubt in Emma's mind that she was wanted. Before she was even born, she'd been loved. And if not for the curse, Emma would have been cherished.

She hadn't seen herself as a victim of the curse, not until Mary Margaret told her that she hadn't even had the chance to spend one night in the nursery her parents had so lovingly prepared for her. That was when she finally grasped everything the curse had robbed from her, too: her home and her life with her family and the love of her parents.

But there was still a lingering question. If Mary Margaret had really loved her that much, how could she have let her go? It wasn't until Emma set fire to the wardrobe to keep Cora from using it that she understood the sacrifice her own mother had made. The thought of Cora getting to Henry sent Emma into a panic. The only thing on her mind had been making sure Cora had no way of reaching him, even if it meant stranding herself here and never seeing him again.

And all of a sudden, she understood why Mary Margaret had sent her away. She'd panicked at the thought of the curse claiming her baby and had tried to keep her safe in the only way she could.

It was almost enough to make her cry. Oh, who the hell was she kidding? It did make her cry, and when Mary Margaret wrapped her arms around her in the kind of comforting embrace filled with warmth and love Emma had yearned for all her life, she could only squeeze her eyes shut against the tears and let her mother hold her.

Tears dried and emotions shaken off, Emma and Mary Margaret met up with Aurora and Mulan at the castle gates. The foursome headed back for the haven, trekking through the woods until they ran out of daylight. They set up camp for the night, with Mary Margaret offering to take first watch. Emma surprised pretty much everyone – herself included – by offering to stay up with her.

Now mother and daughter were seated on the ground at the edge of the campsite, eyes and ears open and weapons at the ready. Mary Margaret had stuck with her trusty bow and arrows, but Mulan had given Emma the use of her sword with the caveat of getting it back when she took over for them in a few hours.

It was quiet, so quiet that Emma's whispered, "Mary Margaret?" seemed deafening.

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Mary Margaret tore her gaze from the woods beyond and looked at her daughter, trying hard to contain her surprise. "You can ask me anything."

Emma wasn't entirely sure she wanted to ask her question, mostly because she feared the answer. She had Mary Margaret's attention now, though; she had to go through with it. After taking a deep breath, she asked, "How come you and David didn't come with me?"

At first, it appeared as if the question had startled Mary Margaret. As she met Emma's eyes, however, she understood exactly why Emma had been so hesitant with her since they arrived in the Enchanted Forest. Her poor daughter had spent all this time thinking they had sent her through the wardrobe alone on purpose. "Oh, Emma, it wasn't like that at all. Magic isn't infinite; the wardrobe could only protect one from the curse. We had planned for me to go through and raise you by myself in the new land, but you were born early. Sending you by yourself was never an option … until it became the only one we had. I never wanted this for you, Emma, I promise. I just could not let you be cursed along with everyone else."

"Because I was the savior?"

"No," she said, her brow wrinkling slightly as if she couldn't understand why Emma even had to ask that question. "Because you're my daughter."

Emma swallowed hard in an attempt to dislodge the lump that had risen in her throat. She knew how awful it felt to have the best intentions for her child only to find out that the child had ended up in a situation she never would have wanted.

But wait a minute. August was Pinocchio. He told Emma he'd gone through ahead of her. Mary Margaret hadn't lied to her; she truly believed that the wardrobe could only protect one. But if that were true, how did it have enough magic to save Pinocchio, too?

Emma opened her mouth to bring up exactly that point but the pain on her mother's face stopped her. Their conversation had already upset her enough. Telling her that August was Pinocchio would only make things worse.

No, she couldn't tell her right now. Later on when things calmed down, but not right now.

She was so lost in thought that Mary Margaret's faint gasp startled her. She reached for Mulan's sword but relaxed when she noticed that her mother hadn't jumped to her feet, ready to defend. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Mary Margaret replied, realizing for the first time that she'd just given her daughter a mini-heart attack. "Nothing's the matter. I just saw a shooting star."

Emma didn't have the heart to answer her mother's awe with sarcasm. She raised her eyes to the sky instead, but whatever Mary Margaret had seen was long gone. "We should watch the next meteor shower. You'd love it."

"I've always wanted to watch one."

"I watched one once." Emma leaned back on her hands, her palms pressing against the ground. She stretched her legs out in front of her and gazed up at the sky, smiling at the memory. "Matthew took me out during the summer one, whichever one that is. He woke me up at some ridiculous time and dragged me to the back yard. I had no idea why until he told me to look up. There were so many stars streaking across the sky that you couldn't even keep track of them all."

She chanced a peek at Mary Margaret, who had trained her eyes on her daughter and was smiling gently at the story. "How long did you stay outside?"

"To be honest with you, I have no idea. I must have fallen asleep after a while because the next thing I remember is waking up in my room. The next morning at breakfast, we were both so scared that someone had caught us – the adults, one of the other kids, someone – but no one said a word about it. Matthew put his finger to his lips and winked, and from then on, it was our little secret."

The flurry of emotion on Mary Margaret's face indicated that although she loved hearing about this lovely moment from her daughter's childhood, it pained her that she had been unable to share it with her. "Have you ever tried to find Matthew?"

At that, Emma tore her eyes from her mother's. Her failure to find Matthew was almost as disappointing as her inability to track down her parents. "I've tried, but I was really young when I lived with him. There are so many things I don't remember … the family's name, his last name. I have the city and state we lived in but that's about it." She shrugged halfheartedly. "It doesn't matter. We lived together for ten months over twenty years ago. He probably doesn't even remember me."

Mary Margaret was quiet for a long moment. Even without looking at her, Emma knew that she was debating whether or not to say what she wanted to say. She must have decided to chance it, because she eventually said, "I don't believe that he doesn't remember you. He was special to you, and you were obviously special to him."

"What makes you think that?" Emma asked, frowning at her mother.

"Did he take anyone else outside the night of the meteor shower?"

"No. It was just the two of us."

The gentle smile returned to her mother's face. "He wanted to share something with you, Emma. Something special, something that was just between you two. That doesn't sound like someone you just forget." Her smile turned sardonic. "Dark Curse notwithstanding."

Emma found herself returning Mary Margaret's smile. That was the kind of joke Emma would have made herself. Whether her sense of humor was simply rubbing off on Mary Margaret or she had inherited her sarcasm from her mother, though, Emma had no idea.

"I know you said you chose him for your family," Mary Margaret continued, "but did you ever consider the possibility that maybe he chose you, too?"

That finally made Emma look away. Maybe Matthew had chosen her for his family once, a long time ago. It didn't matter now. She couldn't find him.

It made her sad. It made her angry. She hadn't chosen very many people for her family. She'd chosen Matthew and …

And then it hit her. She'd chosen Mary Margaret for her family long before she knew they were actually related. She had Mary Margaret here with her now. She had her mother with her now, and she had two other members of her family waiting for her back in Storybrooke: a father she was rather surprised to find she wanted to get to know and a wonderful son to whom she longed to return.

"Mary Margaret?" she spoke up softly. "We are going to get back to Storybrooke somehow, aren't we?"

Mary Margaret took Emma's hand in her own and squeezed. "We're going to find a way back to Storybrooke, Emma. I don't care what I have to do to make it happen, but I will make it happen."

Emma nodded, swallowing hard. "I don't care what I have to do to make it happen, either. I want to go home to my family."

The smile on Mary Margaret's face widened even as tears leaped into her eyes. When she tightened her grip on Emma's hand, Emma got the feeling she'd said exactly what her mother had been waiting to hear. "It's decided, then. Nothing is going to stop us from getting home."

And somehow, Emma knew that nothing would. She and Mary Margaret were going to make it back to Storybrooke and back to Henry and David.

Silence enveloped the campsite, not an awkward silence but a comfortable one. The kind of silence Emma used to like in Storybrooke, when she would work on paperwork she brought home from the sheriff's station while Mary Margaret did a crossword. The kind of silence neither of them minded because they knew the other was right there, ready for conversation if it was needed.

As Emma picked up Mulan's sword, the warrior's question from the previous night echoed in her mind. Maybe when Emma gave the sword back to her, she'd let her know she'd finally come up with an answer. Although being lost and found was ridiculously hard, Emma wouldn't have it any other way.